


Apples and Butterflies

by Pennyplainknits



Category: Stargate Atlantis
Genre: Community: mcsmooch, Hurt/Comfort, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-01-17
Updated: 2010-01-17
Packaged: 2017-10-06 09:25:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 981
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/52145
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Pennyplainknits/pseuds/Pennyplainknits
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John has a cold.  Rodney makes it better</p>
            </blockquote>





	Apples and Butterflies

"Huh"

John squinted through bleary eyes, frowning as the figure in the door resolved into Rodney, and fell back onto the pillow.

"I'd've said it was impossible, but you look like crap".  Rodney bounced into the room looking almost offensively healthy and perched on the chair next to the bed. 

"Seriously- what's wrong with you?" He peered at John, looking almost concerned as John struggled to sit up, pulling the blankets round his shoulders.

"Cold." John croaked, feeling the word tear at his throat, "Head feels like its filled with pudding".

 "Well don't give it to me" came the predictable response.  John couldn't resist the opening: working up a smirk he began

 "Sharing is c-ugh ugh ugh" before dissolving into a coughing fit, feeling the gunk in his lungs rise up, straining his ribs and stomach muscles as he hacked and wheezed.

"Hey, steady". He felt one large hand brace his shoulder; "You need to sit up more" said Rodney as he packed pillows behind John. "Try that" He tipped him back and John sagged onto the pillows gratefully.

"I guess you really are sick" Rodney said quietly once John had finally stopped coughing.

"What gave it away?" asked John snappishly.  He _hated_ being ill. For once Rodney didn't rise to the bait.  Instead he looked at John almost fondly and remarked

"You know, you'd think somewhere in all those labs the medics tell me they need there must be the cure for the common cold"

"You'd think" John agreed.  He was finding it easier to breathe sitting up and with Atlantis scenting the air with eucalyptus.

"Guess you'll have to get better the old-fashioned way".  Rodney dropped his hand onto John's and squeezed comfortingly.  And how odd was it, John thought,  that his idea of comfort had somehow morphed into a slightly stocky physicist with talkative hands.  He wasn't sure how, but somewhere inbetween suicide runs, Replicators and parallel universes Rodney had become the person he wanted looking after him. 

"Y'know, when I was sick as a kid my mom would tuck me up with a kiss and hot honey and lemon", he wheedled, only half joking.

"Sorry, you'll have to find someone else to bring you hot citrus death". Rodney's voice was clipped, but he soothed John's wrist with his thumb, just once.

"And the kiss?" Asked John.  He knew he was pushing it but he felt too crappy to care, and anyway he could always blame the cold.  Rodney's blue eyes sparked, but he just squeezed John's hand once more and stood up.

"Get better Colonel" was all he said before the door slid open, letting him out.

John flopped back against the pillows, shaking his head at his own stupidity before closing his eyes and letting the resiny air soothe him to sleep.

*****

He slept most of the morning and into the afternoon, existing in a kind of foggy haze.  He remembered Teyla visiting at some point, bringing a warm woven blanket and tucking it round him securely. 

"Be well John" she murmured, brushing his hair off his sweaty forehead.

" 'nks" he said, still half asleep, burrowing down into its woolly folds.

He was awakened by the door swooshing to let Rodney in, who had his hands full.

"Hold this" he said, giving John a bottle of water, "and take these" Hr dropped 2 white pills into John's outstretched had. "Just aspirin" he continued,  "you're hot"- John smirked and cocked a eyebrow.  Rodney huffed "not that way idiot, well that way too, but you have a fever and probably some muscle pain, so take them".  He made shooing motions and John did as he was told.

"Now, drink this" Rodney handed John the mug he'd been carrying. 

"What is it?" asked John, breathing in the fruit-scented steam.

"Something the next-door neighbour used to make when I had a cold"

"Next-door neighbour?" John cupped his hand round the mug, enjoying the warmth.  
 

"How have you not caught on how useless my parents were?  Drink up, it won't kill you.  Or me mores the point".  

John took a sip; it was hot, fruity, with an undertaste of honey and something else he couldn't quite place. He raised his eyebrows questioningly.

"Hot apple juice, honey, and ginger.  You're lucky Thompson in biomechanics is a horder, the mess ran out of apple juice weeks ago." John took another sip, the honey soothing his throat as he swallowed. He felt almost absurdly happy that Rodney had cared enough to hunt down apple juice for him.

"You made me your special cold drink" he said softly, touched. Rodney took the mug out of his hands and placed it on the table.

"What was it you said?  Hot drinks, and a kiss?" 

John just looked at him, trying to convince himself that the tightness in his chest was the cold and not anticipation as Rodney leaned down and cupped his face in one warm hand.  He had just enough time to think 'no way is he going to kiss me with this cold' before Rodney fluttered those long, ridiculous, _beautiful_ eyelashes against his cheek in a butterfly kiss. The light, almost ticklish touch tingled throughout his entire body as Rodney pressed his lips to John's hair and drew slowly away.

"Wha-"John croaked. Rodney pulled the blankets up round him, tucking them in tightly, and gave him back the mug, saying

"Call it an incentive for a quick recovery".  He stroked John's knuckles gently as they gripped the mug, then got up and headed for the door.

"Get well soon John" he said, looking entirely too pleased with himself as he stepped into the corridor.

John stared at the mug in his hands and took a big gulp. Hey, if it put him in a position to do more than wheeze the next time Rodney kissed him, he'd happily drink gallons of the stuff.


End file.
